Leshdoria: The First Generation
by sylvanfang
Summary: The epic tales of my first D&D campain, rated R due to some scenes that will include sex, drugs, violence, torture, heresy, disturbing thoughts, etc. etc. Oh well, at least it's not as bad as my second campain, Worldshadow!
1. Introduction

Disclaimer- I do not own any D&D gods, classes, items, or related subjects. I DO own most of these characters, except the PCs, which belong to the players who play them. I do co-own some of the gods in this story with Teresa Smit aka greenleaf-in-bloom. Those gods are Jorn, Marina, Skaro, Luna, Sola, and Sern. I own Rasht. In addition, I own any area on the material plane in this story, though some of them have the same names of places in different campaigns, such as Freeport and the Dalelands.

Also, I do not own some characters, such as Dydd and Ashardalon.

This is the Story of Leshdoria, the first generation. In these pages lie the histories and stories of the heroes and villains of that age, and their deeds. Here you shall meet such heroes as Laucian Lighthand, Marlark Quarion, Thrukk, Vallasse of the line of Dydd, The Raven Wanderer, Nimbul the Bard, and many, many more,

But alas! You shall also meet such dastardly villains as Nerallyn, Eclipse, Celernec Morsfero, and Caranlos Morsul.

This being a collection of short stories, they need not be read in any specific order, though they are better understood when read as one. For example, one must not read of the Dragonwars until the War of the Twin Suns is over. Thus, I shall make an attempt to post these in the correct order.

Note that the initial stories may be rather cheesey, as they are the first ones I will write on the subject AND they were the ones happening when me and the players were just learning how to play.


	2. Labyrinth Part One

Here lies the account of the gathering of the forming of the Companions of the Labyrinth. Here is the beginning of the initial adventure of some of Leshdoria's most famous adventurers. This is the tale of their quest into a maze of perils. They never quite finished their quest here, but it opened many doors for them nonetheless. Most of the characters in this chapter will be elves. There shall also be a cat and a half-elf.

Initial

Character descriptions-

Cakorax is a friend of Zaxyl's. He insulted the high priestesses and had to flee the city with Zaxyl. He has a brother named Cazzorax and a father named Callorax. His mother was a drow commoner who died during childbirth with Cazzorax. Cakorax is a rogue with a strong sense of morals, and he usually acts more like a paladin. He goes back and forth between many alliances. He is somewhat of an aimless drifter.

Drynn is Zaxyl's "pet cat". Drynn is controlled by a small orb called 'Drynn's leash'. The cat gains strength from the sun and must bask in it at least an hour each day or turn into a tiny statue until it can bask again. Zaxyl first found Drynn in statue form in an Illithid shrine in the underdark, Drynn can run at speeds up to sixty miles per hour, and maintain such speeds for long distances. When powerful enough from the sun, Drynn can even carry Zaxyl on it's back!

Lenner is a wood elf from the forest of Alethor. Because of the position of Alethor, it is always besieged by orcs and drow. Lenner holds a special hatred for these two races, but has learned to accept Zaxyl and Cakorax. He is a skilled ranger and a good friend of Moredhel's

Moredhel is Lenner's friend and a fellow wood elf. He is more of a wanderer and much more lighthearted than the grim Lenner, and doesn't hate drow nearly as much, though he has an unbridled hatred for anything orcish. Also from Alethor, Moredhel is more of a novice at adventuring, and seems more like a bard than the ranger he is.

Zaxyl is a renegade drow from the city of Zul'Aman. Once firstboy of House Sindac'Zula, He fled the city, along with Cakorax, and fled south across the tundra to arrive in Greymist, a moon elf city known for it's open arms to strangers. There he and Cakorax settled, each with his own home, and they parted ways for a while, though meeting often and allying on their adventures. Zaxyl is a 3rd level rogue at the beginning of this story.

It was a quiet night in the woods of Greymist. Zaxyl sat in the chair, watching as Cakorax and Moredhel practiced their swordplay. Drynn lay at his feet, warming itself by the fire. Lenner was whittling a new flute from across the room. All was warm in Cakorax's cabin, with his drow and wood elf companions, but outside, it was dark and rainy.

Aust crawled on, as he had been doing all night. He was finaly out of that god-forsaken Labyrinth, but at what cost? His true love was gone.

He saw a light. He crawled towards it. Closer and closer. He heard voices and felt the texture of hard wood under him. He crawled up the steps and opened the door.

Standing up, Aust looked upon the scene. All was quiet. A wood elf was sitting on a bench a yard away, carving a wooden flute. A dark elf was sitting near the fire, a large black hunting cat at his feet. In the middle of the room, a drow and a wood elf were locked in a duel, frozen in place, watching as the weary half-elf came through the door.

"D-d-drow!!", stuttered the confused bard, drawing a long, slender rapier.

"Wait! We mean you no harm!" replied Cakorax in a rushed voice.

Aust lunged forward, stumbled, and collapsed from exhaustion.

He awoke in the morning. "Had a good sleep, half-elf? ", said a grave and serious voice. "You took a tumble and fainted."

Aust looked up and saw the face of a wood elf, leaning over him. He had highly defined features, looking savage and noble. He wore feathers in his hair, and his face was decorated with complex patterns of warpaint. His eyes were deep green, and his hair was deep brown with streaks of black.

"My name is Lenner. It would seem my friends gave you a shock. Tell me: how did you come by this house?"

The bard began: "My name is Aust Galanodel. Me and my lover, Anastriana Amastacia, were exploring a vast underground cave not far from here. We were in a tunnel.. and.." he stopped

"And what?" pressed Lenner

"There was a cloaked figure", continued Aust, choking back tears. "We heard some hissing, and, the figure took off her hood, and"-The half-elf sobbed- "I looked away, and w-wh-when I looked back, Anastriana w-was stone!"

"Stone?!?" questioned a puzzled drow, coming into the room.

The drow had a cunning gaze in his eyes and silver-white hair. He was thin and tall, wearing black leather armor and carrying a rapier at his side and daggers in his boots. Following him was a large black hunting cat.

"Ah. I suppose I should introduce myself.", said the drow in lightly accented elvish. "My name is Zaxyl This is my friend Drynn", he said, pointing to the cat. "Your name I already know. Go on with the story."

The half-elf continued, "The cloaked figure had revealed her face, and her eyes were painful to look into. I tried to stay and fight, but I felt myself becoming slower and heardening to rock. I struggled and ran, but Anastriana.... was left... behind..."

"What did the figure look like?" inquired Lenner

"She had bright eyes... and scales and claws.. and.... snakes for hair..."

"Medusa.", remarked Zaxyl knowingly.

"Please, you have to help me", pleaded the bard. "Anastriana and I were to be married in the spring... and... I must rescue her."

"You can't." reasoned Lenner, "It's too dangerous. Your lucky you escaped with your life as it is!"

"I have to go back. I can't live without Anastriana. I must find her and free her of her stone prison."

"You can't do this alone!" argued Lenner.

"I must do this!"

"And we're helping." Interrupted a voice. Cakorax stood in the doorway, followed by Moredhel. Cakorax was savage looking, with dead white hair and gleaming bright red eyes. He was shorter than Zaxyl, and stockier. At his side he wore a Katana. Moredhel had wild black hair and grey eyes. He was short and slim. His hands constantly fingered his bow or his swords.

"I cannot allow it!" replied Aust "This is my duty!"

"We're not just going to let you wander into a medusa's lair and wind up stone soup, you know", joked the lighthearted Moredhel, "Besides, you look a lot better as flesh than rock."

"We're coming with you", said Cakorax. "Whether you like it or not"

"But I-"began Aust

"But I don't care!", shouted Cakorax, "Now bring us there!"

"But-"

"Besides," laughed Moredhel, "We can't let YOU take all the glory!"

"But I-"Aust realized it was no use. "Very well. I'll take you tommorow"

And so it was that the Companions of the Labyrinth was formed. In the next few chapters, You will learn more of their quest and of the new member s that will soon join them.


	3. Semaj Si'truc

Here is the account of another member of the Companions of the Labyrinth, who, though he has not yet joined them, shall prove to be the most pivotal member of the team.

Semaj Si'truc, as he is known, is a dark avarial. The dark avarial are a race of drow with large, batlike wings. Semaj is a wizard (5th level) at the beginning of this story. Like the rest of the loners, wanderers, and exiles in the group, he was cast out of his home. His mother was the high priestess of the city, and a worshiper of Nerrul. Thus, for many years, Nerrul had controlled the city through her. However, when invading drow houses came, they converted the populace to Lolth, and slew the priestesses of Nerrul. Semaj's father is unknown, but it is known that is stepfather was a great archmage of the city, though was eventually killed in a duel with a rival archmage. Semaj's stepfather taught him magic, and helped him learn and practice whenever he had time, for Semaj was to be the next archmage. During one such practice, his stepfather miscast a lightning bolt spell, and it hit Semaj in the eyes. He was somehow spared from blindness, but his eyes are now completely white, giving him a chilling look.

Semaj fled from the city and befriended an old gnome oozemaster alchemist hermit named Dr.Twinkledinkle. Twinkledinkle took Semaj in and raised him as a nephew or an apprentice.

(Dr.Twinkledinkle is a CN male gnome Expert 7/ Wizard 7/ Oozemaster 9)

Semaj studies to become a Necromancer and a Pale Master, and eventually join the Bleak Academy. He wields a quarterstaff 2/2, decorated with the skull of a human.


	4. Labyrinth Part Two

Here is the continuation of the account of the companions of the Labyrinth

The group marched for several hours, eventually reaching the cave of which the bard had spoken. In the side of the mountain north of Bucklegem they found an ancient-looking archway, ornately carved with symbols of snakes eating rats, fire flaring from bull's nostrils, and lizards with sharp claws and fangs. The passage led down to a long stairway into dimly lit tunnels. Without a word, the party moved down the stairs, their elven vision helping to guide the way.

They followed the tunnel about fifty feet, coming to a split. Each way lead in opposite directions, 90 degrees from their current position. Down the tunnel on their left, they could smell filthy rags and furs and see bones strewn about. The smell on their right was not much better, a musky, heavy stench.

The group turned towards Aust.

"Which way?" asked Lanaer, glancing about.

"I can't remember", replied the bard. "My memories of the time were dim, and Anastriana led the way. I do remember a horrid stench, but that could be either of these."

"How about we go down the one that stinks the most?" suggested Moredhel lightly.

The group seemed repulsed at the idea, but it was decided that the right tunnel did indeed stink more, and Zaxyl pointed out that a medusa wouldn't leave fresh meat and furs lying around, having turned them to stone.

The group headed down the tunnel on their right, coming to another split and turning right again. The walls were carved with symbols of skulls and lizards, and the stench grew stronger. Moredhel took the lead. As he was stepping around another corner leading left, the floor gave way beneath him. Fortunately, he dodged the pit trap in time and jumped to the other side. The bard took a running jump and pounced across the hole, whereas Cakorax, Lanaer, and Zaxyl lightly hopped across.

Ahead of the group was a small door, made of crudely carpentered wood. There was no lock or trap, and the sound of guttural voices, wicked laughs, whips, shouting, and general living in the society of whatever monsters lurked beyond the door.

Zaxyl cautiously peered through the door, opening it only a sliver of a crack. The stench grew stronger. He could see scaly humanoid monsters moving about, a flock of caged chickens, and several humans in a large pen, apparently slaves to the creatures.

Zaxyl turned to Lanaer. "The room is full of thin, tall, lizardlike people with a horrible stench and humanoids slaves. Their hide is yellow-brown, they have large fanglike teeth, and they stand and walk erect."

After a moment of studying Zaxyl's report, Lanaer decided. "Troglodytes. They live in places such as this, raid the surface, and prize metals above all else."

The group considered this revalation..

"Shouldn't free the slaves?" inquired Zaxyl.

"I'd like too, but that isn't our mission here." Replied Lanaer "We kill the medusa before anything else."

"Uh, guys?" interrupted Moredhel, "I don't think they're gonna give us a choice"

He pointed behind them, where five trogs stood, javelins ready. Their javelins were long and crudely carved, with heads of stone carved into cruel barbs. They wore ragged padded and leather armor that hung about them in disrepair, and a savage glint of battle glowed in their eyes.

The javelins flew. Arrows were loosed. Moredhel and Aust dropped a trog, the wood elf's arrow piercing it's eye and the bard's bolt thrusting into it's stomach. Aust was hit by the same trog's javelin and fell back, wounded. The remaining four trogs, missing their targets but driving the small group back towards the door, bounded over the pit and pushed the intruders back with their spears, forcing them through the doorâ. and into a room filled with trogs.

Semaj had been following the group for hours before they had reached the Labyrinth. He had killed the bandits on the road and hid their bodies. He had seen them enter the Labyrinth and be followed by the Troglodytes. He had seen them be pushed back into a cavernous room and even now he watched them fight for their lives against the pressing hoard of trog warriors.

It just looked too fun. The avariel folded his wings behind his back and hid them with a cape, crossing the pit the conventional way, binding his wings so they would not respond to reflexes. There was no need to give more information about himself then he wished to. His cold, white eyes narrowed slightly and he held forth his ebony-wooded staff. His robes shifted slightly as he readied a spell beneath them.

Cakorax was the fist to see him. He side-stepped a trog warrior that had been bearing down on him, spear flashing with an iron tip. The nimble drow quickly drew out his Wakizashi was stabbed the foul creature though the neck, ripping out it's throat and gullet, causing it's vile black blood to spray out over his face. Another trog, this one with a whip in one hand and a curved dagger held tightly in the other, charged from the side. He was caught in the stomach by the Katana, his entrails spilling out as the renegade dark elf spun and caught a third troglodyte across the chest, cutting through the bone of his ribs with his razor-bladed swords and making a tiny cut across the heart. The trog collapsed grasping the bloody spot rapidly growing over his chest as his lifeblood spilled out onto the floor.

Then he saw it. The four trogs that had pushed them into the room had been standing back, not partaking in the fight until more of their own tribe joined in. Now they would never fight again. Burnmarks covered their bodies and the walls. The only thing in the area around them not covered in ash and burn scars was a devious looking drow. He wore an unnaturally long cloak and black robes. His spellbook, covered in runes and inlaid with bone-carved glyphs, hung in a hellhound-fur carrying case. His quarterstaff was ebony wood and inlaid with small runes. His features were sharp and sinister, though somehow oddlyââ almost divine looking. He seemed to exude an aura of death around him and stank of the grave. His most striking feature, though, were his eyes. Never had Cakorax seen such cold, uncaring eyes. His eyes were enlarged almost half again what they should have been, and covered in tiny veinlike white scars. The most undettling thing about those eyes, though, were their color. White. Like a dead man's. Like an icy shadow of darkness itself, an everpresent reminder of some dark sin or forgotten deed. They drew the mind towards them like a snake will do with a mouseâ until, of course, the snake pounces. Cakorax was drawn into that gaze. He felt the world be shed away from him and all there was was the eerie whiteness of those cold orbs.

Then there was pain.

Cakorax snapped out of his reverie as a troglodyte javelin hit his leg, shending shockwaves of pain coursing through his body.

A knife sprang from Zaxyl's boot sheaths as if it had life of it's own, so fast were the nimble drow's hands. He threw the dagger through the air, lodging it in the trog's head, making a sickening cracking sound as the blood from the trog's main cerebral blood vessals soaked the fine, unadorned handle of the throwing knife. Cakorax grunted slightly as he regained proper footing and was about to tell Zaxyl about the newcomer when he was pressed on defense by three more of the Troglodytes. The room was filled with the smelly creatures and the air thick with their musky stench. His vision swam and his movement slowed as the smell wafting into his nostrils nauseated him. Bile rose in his throat and he vomited forth his lunch upon the ground. The troglodytes lunged. One was taken by another of Zaxyl's daggers, and another fell to an arrow from Moredhel's bow.

The third fell to an ebony quarterstaff.

Looking around him, Cakorax could see the flashing black staff and the strange, white-eyed drow that carried it, throwing spells this way and that, driving back the trogs. Moredhel was drawing his blades and heading after their king, a large specimen of their species dressed in mismatched metal armors and chains and covered in iron strinkets, wielding a large morningstar of crude iron. Sylvanfang and Zaxyl fought back to back, blades drawn and stabbing and hacking the flesh away from the foe, while Drynn tore open a trog's throat. Aust chanted encouragement to his comrades as he wielded his rapier against seemingly insurmountable odds, dancing and spinning among the odd creatures that assailed them. Cakorax looked down at his own leg, with a long, deep, filthy cut torn open upon it and the blood oozing and seeping out. The pain and the stench bore down upon his senses.

Cakorax blacked out.


End file.
